


In My Own Words

by Sparkses



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Character Study, F/M, My First Fanfic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 14:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkses/pseuds/Sparkses
Summary: Spoilers for episode 78. Caleb starts to write a book of his own, one that is about magic, but not a type of magic he knows, rather one he witnesses and feels every day. A story that he feels is deserving of telling.





	1. It starts with a sentence.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, so please be gentle. Chapters will be short to start with. 
> 
> Spurred on by my love of watching Laura and Liam and their beautiful characters interact.

Caleb shut the door to the library in the Xhorhaus, listening as the sound of the other members of the Mighty Nein became muted. He knew that they would not be here for long, that time was precious. Essek was likely already on his way, summoned with but a sentence from Jester. But Jester was the very reason that right now, he craved solitude. Making sure that the door was closed, he moved over to one of the shelves, pulling down a thin book, one without a title on the cover nor the spine, carrying it over to his desk and setting it down as he sat, fingers running over the leather. 

His mind was replaying the words of Archivist Zenoth, when Caleb had asked if there was a book about the Traveller. He wanted to say that he wasn't sure why the fact that others thought of the followers of the Traveller as nothing but a cult rankled him so, but he was honest enough to know that he was angry on Jester's behalf. He watched her every day, watched the powers she had grow and flourish. Watched as she held her own standing next to a cleric of the Wildmother. It wasn't a competition, least of all to Caduceus, but Caleb knew enough about magic to know that divine power was no small gift. 

His thoughts dwelled on the ball of sunshine wrapped in blue skin and horns that was Jester as he reached for his pen, dipping it into the ink and starting to write. She helped him, helped all of them every day, and he was never sure he would be able to repay her. He wasn't sure even this would be enough. The number of times he had opened his eyes from the darkness of unconsciousness to find her fanged smile watching over him was burned forever into his memory, just like the lilting way she said his name, and the way her laughter seemed to tug at his chest. He knew the power of words, the magic they held, and he was determined to give her a small part of that. Ink spread across the page under his pen as he wrote, talking about the miracles he had witnessed, and the joy of worship that the Traveller stirred in his tiefling friend. 


	2. Reminiscing

The pounding of feet on wood provided a staccato backdrop that Caleb found oddly calming to write to. He had gotten so used to the sound of the other members of the Mighty Nein, the constant sound of voices, of movement, that he found it hard to relax without it. After his time in the asylum, he had been so certain that he would never find peace in constant noise again, but now he couldn’t imagine finding comfort in silence. 

As words continued to spill across the page, each one carefully thought out and planned, he could imagine what the others would be doing. Caduceus would be in the kitchen, restocking herbs and spices for their upcoming travels. Fjord would be in his room, taking a few precious moments to himself. Beau would be watching Jester as she bounced from place to place, packing her bag and twirling around in clothes, asking which ones looked best. Nott would be going through her alchemical supplies, and if he was lucky, not making another Fluffernutter. 

For a moment his thoughts turned to Yasha, but he quickly turned them away again. Those thoughts always struck a little too close to home to be comfortable. Working for someone… or rather enslaved. Blinded to the truth, unable to think for oneself. Leaving a trail of bodies behind. His heart broke for her when he thought about it. The way the others were determined to try and help her gave him a hope he felt guilty for holding onto. Especially when it came to how much it upset Jester. 

It was a nightmare he had dreamt more than once. The look on Jester’s face as fire whirled around them. He had seen it briefly when he had thrown that fireball at them all, and it had broken his heart. For a moment the look of hurt and betrayal on her face had outweighed the anger at his will being stripped from him. 

He shook himself out of his imaginings before they became melancholy, looking down at the words on the page. He was only about four pages into his writings, a chronicling of their adventures, but with a focus on Jester and her worship of the traveller. A description of both healings and pranks. He couldn’t keep the small smile from quirking the corners of his mouth at the way she managed to be both the bawdiest and most innocent creature he knew. A seamless blend of delight that he was captivated by. 

Not that he would admit that to anyone else.


	3. The dark of night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming home to the Xhorhaus after defeat in the lotus den. Spoilers for E79

They were all feeling down as they trudged back into the Xhorhaus. More than down, defeated. You could see it in the slump of each person’s shoulders, in the way they travelled in silence, no one looking at anyone else. Except for Caleb. His eyes kept sliding over to Jester. To their little beacon of light. He hoped that she was only dimmed, and not extinguished. Even her tail was drooping now, and he didn’t know that he was capable of being this worried about another person’s emotional well being. 

They still didn’t speak as they all went their own ways. Caduceus and Fjord went up to the tree to say their prayers before bed. Nott was already drinking from her flask as she slunk towards her room. Beau stomped with a weight that seemed as though she was carrying every single one of them. For a moment, Caleb looked at Jester, considering every way that he could think of to cheer her up, but in truth, he was exhausted. They were all exhausted, down to their bones. So instead he just ducked his head and slipped into the library, having to clench his fists to keep from looking backwards. 

It had taken him far less time than usual to fall asleep, something that spoke to just how tapped he had been. His boots had even still been on his feet, mud caked and leaving marks on his sheets. So he was surprised when he found himself snapping awake with a suddenness that had him looking around for a threat. His head tilted as he heard the sound of movement above him. It took him a moment to realise it wasn’t directly above him, where he would expect to hear Nott, but rather to the side slightly, from Yasha’s room. 

Frowning he pulled his coat back on, his hands in his component pouch as he started to sneak up the stairs. He had learnt his lessons from Nott well, avoiding the creaking stair. He thought for a moment about summoning the globules of light, but he could see a light coming from Yasha’s room, flickering in a way he instinctively knew was fire. He moved slowly, making sure to keep himself at an angle that would be difficult to see inside of the room. He came to the door, peering in, and his hands relaxed instantly. Inside the room was not the mind-controlled Barbarian that he had feared, but rather Jester, perched on Yasha’s bed on her knees, her back to him, paintbrush in hand. He held his breath as he looked over her work. He had seen glimpses of the flower mural before, but now it was expanded. Not quite a riot of colour, but a field of… life. Of beauty. 

“Oh blueberry... “ He couldn’t stop the exclamation coming from his mouth, little more than a sigh, but it didn’t stop her whirling around, a guilty look on her face, and paint splattering on Yasha’s bed. “Caleb you scared me!” She set the brush down, a guilty look he wasn’t used to seeing on her ever. He moved into the room, closing the door gently behind him to give them a moment of privacy. HIs eyes were on the painting again, giving her a moment to compose herself. 

She twisted her tail around her wrist as she looked at the painting, then back to Caleb. “I couldn’t sleep, knowing she was out there, and all she gets to look at is swamps and blood, and stupid Obann… I thought we were going to bring her home Cay-leb… I want her to have something nice to come home to. She… she looked so angry, so sad… Do you think she hates us now?” 

Caleb’s heart was breaking for her, something he didn’t even think was possible anymore. He put his arm around her, initiating physical contact, something he didn’t necessarily enjoy, but he knew that in this moment, Jester needed a hug. “Blueberry, Yasha could never hate you. She was doing what she was commanded is all, you see?” He looked at Jester’s face, but he could tell she didn’t really believe her. “I will tell you what… you paint, and I will light up the room, ja? You can paint until you are ready to sleep.” With a wave of his hands, the globules of light appeared, lighting up the room for her, concentrating around the area she had been painting. 

Jester sniffled again, but nodded. She picked up the brush, moving back to the wall. “Thank you Cay-leb.”


	4. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, Caleb writing while Jester paints in the previous chamber.

Caleb had sat with Jester while she painted in Yasha’s room until she was done. He had moved the lights around, idly drifting, occasionally dancing as he watched her. Soon enough he had realised that he was staring however, so he had pulled the second book out of his holsters, not his spell book, but the one he kept notes in, the one he wrote in with ordinary ink, on plain pages that were spotted with dirt, mud, and occasionally with blood. 

He didn’t show anyone this book. It wasn’t that he was hiding it from them in particular. He knew some people would find it odd, the thought of someone with a perfect memory writing down things that they thought, things that happened to them, but he found the process calming. The sound of the tip of a pen scratching against parchment, seeing words appearing, forming sentences and stories. He enjoyed words, he liked the power of them. 

He was writing about Yasha, about visiting Rexxentrum, even if it was only for an hour or so. He had a lot of feelings, and he needed to do something with them to keep them from burning him up inside. He didn’t know how the others managed it. He could understand Beau a little, her anger at the world, but her desire to see things get better. He knew Nott desired to return to her family, but struggled with the person she was becoming, and it was a source of conflict for her. He knew Caduceus saw the world through the eyes of the faithful, even if it wasn’t a sentiment he overly shared. 

And that brought him to Jester. He… He didn’t understand Jester, and yet he did. He wished to understand the world the way she did. With hope and light. Although he could see that light dimming more and more, tempered by the realities of life, and it saddened him. It made him think of a young boy, so desperate to be anything, to be powerful that he didn’t cry out as blood ran down his arms, crystals glinting in the firelight. He envied Jester. To be so innocent and yet so knowledgeable of the world. She understood people in a way he didn’t think he ever would. She took delight in the little things, something he was trying to do again. And he enjoyed watching her friendship with Nott grow and flourish. 

More than anything, he was enjoying watching her become a woman in the world. Watching her faith flourish and bear fruit. Watching her save people, and rearrange shops, and just make small inches of the world a little more like the world she loved and imagined. That was a part of why he was writing in the slender green book in his study. The world the way Jester saw it was a magical place. He knew all too well the cost of magic, but also it’s allure and it’s wonder. And other people deserved to see it that way as well. 

Looking up as he heard a sound, he could see Jester starting to pack up her paints. His eyes moved over the mural and he smiled, bringing the lights down to really highlight the work. "It looks very beautiful, blueberry. But you should get some sleep now." Jester nodded, covering her mouth as she yawned. "Thank you Cay-leb." And with that she was off to her room, and he was left with his lights and his thoughts. More thoughts than he could ever write down.


	5. A miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been a while since I updated this. Life got busy. But it’s much slower at the moment, so I am trying to catch up. This chapter covers the Happy Funball adventures, so spoilers for atleast 80-83.

Caleb was a combination of inspired and exhausted. He had a batch of papers on his desk that he had been pouring over constantly. The symbols and sigils felt as though they were burning on his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He was taking a brief break, as the ink on the parchment had been swimming in front of his eyes, and he knew that the more he looked over Halas’ notes on transforming the body, the more confused he was going to get. 

At first he had thought about laying down, having a nap, but after the initial burning sigils faded from his thoughts, all that he could see was the small cloaked figure in a heap, not moving or breathing. He had thought his heart was going to stop with Nott’s. He hadn’t been able to think as he had held the lifeless body of his best friend in his arms. And then he had watched Jester perform a miracle, bringing her back to life. He had been so caught up in the moment he hadn’t had the time to really feel the awe that she inspired in him. But he could feel it now, detaching himself from the panic of the moment to just stare at the Jester of his memory, and being amazed by the power the little tiefling wielded. 

He reached into his pack, fingers brushing against the cold metal of the collar that had been locked around his neck. This trip into the Happy Fun Ball had been one panicking moment after another. From the thankfully temporary death of his best friend, to losing his ability to call on magic, to the Astral Dreadnought. He couldn’t remember a time filled with more consistent panic. But they had made it through it. Together. He had never thought that he would come to rely on others so heavily, but here they were. 

His fingers closed around the thin book he had been writing in when he was alone, pulling it from his pack. He flicked through the pages he had written. Recounts of miracles, pranks, spells. Of stories that Jester had told of the Traveler. He frowned as he read over them. Even though he was able to recount each story word for word, he always felt as though there was something missing from his telling. Something about Jester, the spark of her that could not be captured with ink on paper. Atleast not by hands like his. 

He moved back to the table, carefully clearing a space amongst the mass of papers and notes. Sitting down, he turned to a blank page, and dipped his quill into the pot of green ink that he kept for writing in the book about the Traveller. He was so focused on his writing, on recounting every detail of watching Jester wield control over life and death that he didn’t notice the green cloaked figure that was sitting on his bed, watching him. A very amused smirk peeking out from under the hood as long, delicate fingers wove together to rest on a cloaked knee. 

The Traveler was enjoying this little development, and planned on watching with keen interest.


	6. Tattoos in the Moonlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a week? Say it aint so! But I am feeling oddly inspired to write, so here we go. This has spoilers for episode 84. And we have actual character interaction, not just Caleb writing in his book!

Caleb was sitting up on the deck, just looking out of the harbour, out to the ocean. He had never expected to enjoy his time on the water, but he found himself yearning, just a little, for the time they had spent being pirates. Or sailors. Whatever the term may be. Frumpkin was at his side, tail gently swaying as the pair relaxed, but a soft trill from the cat alerted him to the sound of someone coming up from below deck. Turning his head, he tried to keep his eyes from widening as he saw blue hair, and horns, and then bare blue shoulders, glimmering in the moonlight. 

Jester smiled brightly as she saw Caleb and Frumpkin on the desk, altering her course from where she had planned to go, coming up to sit beside him. She had been having a little trouble sleeping, the skin on her shoulders and chest itchy and hot from the tattoo she had received that day. “Cay-leb! You should be sleeping you know. We have a busy day tomorrow.” She folded her skirt around her as she sat, her top bare except for the band of fabric covering her chest. 

Caleb could already feel the tips of his ears turning pink as he tried to keep his eyes firmly on the ocean, and not on the glittering skin that was so close to his he could feel the cool that always seemed to radiate from the Tiefling. “I will sleep, Blueberry. I just wanted to take a moment to enjoy the ocean, ja?” Jester nodded, turning her attention from the wizard to the ocean, taking in a deep breath, not seeming to notice the way it made the tattoo glimmer and shine. The ocean had always been a part of her life, so she could understand just wanting to stare at it. 

Caleb’s thoughts were swirling, a mix of the conversation that had taken place over fish and chips, and the tattoo, twinkling in vivid detail in his imagination. He reached out, placing a hand on Frumpkin to gently pet him, the movement centering his focus, and helping him take a breath and look over at her. He wasn’t sure what to say yet, so it surprised him when her voice suddenly spilled into the silence. 

“Do you think Yasha is looking at the ocean, wherever she is? I remember last time we were on the Balleater, she would spend a lot of time you know? Just looking at the ocean. Do you think maybe she heard Kord in the waves?” Jester looked from the ocean back to Caleb, a vulnerability in her eyes that she so rarely let show, but he was beginning to see her working to overcome more and more. 

“I think… I think that if she can see the ocean, Jester, then maybe it is bringing her a little bit of peace. And she could use some peace.” They could all use some peace. His thoughts had moved to Yasha, to the mass of papers in his pack, to the Chained Oblivion and everything they had ahead of them. Everything had been so urgent for a while now, he wasn’t sure they would have time soon to just relax. 

“You know Cayyyyyyleb….” Jester’s voice cut through his thoughts, the way it always cut through everything he was doing, as if it knew the way to find whatever shreds were left of his soul. He turned to look at her, his eyebrows raising as he saw her own dancing in mischief, her shoulders wiggling as well. “You haven’t told me how much you like my new tattoooooo….” Her sing-song tone brought a smile to his lips. 

“I am sorry Jester. It’s very pretty. It looks like drops of frost or dew have fallen on your skin, in a lovely pattern.” He didn’t talk about how he wanted to touch it. Or how it drew his attention to her throat, across the strong expanse of her shoulders. And he didn’t voice his disappointment as she smiled so prettily and then stood up. 

“Thank you Caleb. Make sure you get some sleep, you know. I know you’re worried about going to Rexxentrum, but we will keep you safe.” She squeezed his shoulder, before disappearing back below the deck. 

Caleb didn’t realise he had been holding his breath until he groaned, falling backwards so he was laying on the deck, looking up at the stars. He exhaled as Frumpkin jumped up onto his chest, one of his blackened hands coming up to scritch at the cat as it started to knead at his chest.


End file.
